It was the best of times … it was the worst of times … it was time to read A Tale of Two Cities, that Dickensian classic, which I somehow never picked up until it appeared for free on the BookBub mailing list.
“But this is my father’s story, sir; and I begin to think” — the curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him — “that when I was left an orphan through my mother’s surviving my father only two years, it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you.”
Yes, Miss Manette. Yes it was. You have an excellent memory, considering you were two years old when that happened. I have trouble remembering what I did last week! Well, though I do remember posting this artwork a couple of weeks ago as a possible cover for The War of the Ravels:
Aldric seemed reluctant to subject any of his candelabra or other finery to her skills, so a rather undercooked piece of meat—which no one but Cynidece had been interested in eating—was chosen as the unlucky victim. Sitting all fat and pink on a wooden carving board, it had no idea what was in store for it.